


WCKD HIGH

by Kamitsure



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-11 20:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamitsure/pseuds/Kamitsure
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a luxurious boarding school called WCKD Private Secondary School, commonly known as WCKD High, students struggle with their romantic and social lives, seemingly trapped on campus until graduation, -which outcast Thomas and his friends discover isn't what it seems to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

Thomas stood there, suddenly feeling a bit colder even though the room was hot and sticky with sweat. The dark was dimly lit by faded and flashing lights, and his stomach churned in an unpleasant way as he surveyed the party. He didn't particularly want to be there, he didn't want to deal with any of this right now. He gulped in hopes of pushing his dinner back down.

He felt a hand clap him on the back, and looking over his shoulder he saw his tall and slim friend Newt in the confusion. "What're you up to, buddy? Finally decided to come to a party, yeah!"

Thomas scoffed, "you told me to come here, idiot." He regretted even getting dressed. Newt didn't seem to understand his displeasure, so he asked, "What's wrong?"

That's when Thomas saw him. Across the room, leaning on some cabinet with a beer in one hand and a certain glaze over his fierce eyes. They looked almost tired, and the difference was bothering Tom. He was entertaining these two girls dressed quite provocatively, and it hit him in the stomach like one of the punches the guy had dealt to him earlier.

It was Minho. The captain of the football team, the muscled asshole. The student who was over-burdening in class with bursting knowledge and painful remarks about everything. And for some stupid reason, that's exactly why Tom was in love with the kid.


	2. New Year

“You know you’re gonna fall over again if you keep staring off like that,” Thomas heard the voice drift into his ears, and like floodgates opening the chaos that was the first day of school poured in as well, rendering his efforts to drown it out useless. He felt his shoulders slouch as he looked down at the short girl, responding with a “I’m sorry. I don’t really want to be here right now.”

“Or ever,” she laughed, her brown hair waving and curling down onto her shoulders lightly like a bronze wind. Thomas scoffed and said lowly, “Ya tellin’ me.”

The two were so used to the way things were by now that they had no problem sifting through the underclassmen as well as their own classmates to get to their destinations, the map of the school already memorized after two solid years of unpleasant circumstances-one in the girl’s case. WCKD High had a fairly large campus for a high school, covering a lot from the boarding houses to the open green in the back and the fields for sports beyond that.

He remembered his actual first day here; it was short and he internally despised his mother for sending him here. She sent him on one of those pay-per-ride buses, and he had to sit next to some old man with disheveled and greasy grey hair that smelled of sweat and dandruff. He was glad to hop down off the bus, not even thanking the driver as he ripped his bag from the undercarriage. He had arrived at the famed WCKD High. The front gates expressed nothing less than what it was advertised as: opulent. The grandeur of it was perhaps the colors of the collection of buildings that he could see through the gate themselves. 

The wall towered over him, and it hurt his neck to look up too long at the top. There had to be at least twenty feet and a sturdy concrete, and it surrounded the entire school. The gates weren’t a physical form of barring any unwarranted entry, but instead a web of white lines that in the sunlight didn’t seem to be all there in the first place. But like threads of electricity, they would prevent anything from getting past them. A sign to the left of the wall’s opening pointed to a series of small doorways that reminded Thomas of the lines for tickets at amusement parks. More kids were waiting, a diverse collection of them in height, weight, skin tone, and a completely widespread assortment of clothes. Thomas grimaced at the thought of leaving all that behind; WCKD High had a dress code of black pants, shorts, or skirt with a white button up and the red and gold striped ties and bows that they would dispense. A rose red blazer was included, but they accepted the usual sorts of outerwear-sweatshirts or jackets.

The line didn’t take line to wait through as the process to go in was agreeably quick. He would wait until the smaller web of electric gate disappeared to allow him to pass, and he would stand before a glass counter where a woman asked for his name and identification number, the only two things next to a rather unsightly icon of him on a card they sent him in the mail. After that, she asked for his arm-he had to stick it through a hole in the glass- and he barely had time to resist as the woman stuck his arm with a needle thick in diameter. After gasping, she explained in a bored voice, “This is just guaranteeing that you’re part of WCKD High, and a tracker as well. Enjoy your time here!” She put on a tired smile as the next set of electronic gating made way for him.

He stepped out of the tiny, cramped space, rubbing his arm and covering his eyes from the bright August sun. Looking ahead, he could see the main building down a road of hornbeam trees, all of which were decorated with gold ribbons that sifted easily in the breeze he barely felt. The building was red with a black roof and near metallic saffron lining everywhere. Looking at it, he felt as if he had just come into a quantifiable sum of money and had spent it on an estate. But no, this place didn’t belong to him. Though it was certainly here for him. And the tasteful collection of students who had enrolled.

To the right was a road that climbed a steep hill, where there were more buildings, these ones taller and skinnier. He assumed those were the dorms. The road to the left just led to a monolith of a gymnasium, and behind that what he imagined as storehouses. All of it was a shiny black, a wispy maroon and platinum gold, surrounded by past blooming greenery. He could tell fall was on nature’s doorstep, and he sort of liked it.

The present came back to Thomas like a smack in the face, and in a way, that’s exactly how he came out of his memory and upon it. He had face-planted, his rear in the air as his arms bent at odd angles under him. His textbooks projected themselves across the hall. He heard several people talking to him, one angrily and once again the soothing voice in his ear. 

The first was the harsh voice of Minho. Of course it was. Out of all the people he could have tripped into, it had to be the captain of the football team and his posse of bullies. The short beauty was on the ground helping him up and telling him to get up while also telling the giant where she could shove her foot up right then. Minho grunted and said, “Watch it, slint.”

The slang around WCKD High was the one thing he would never get used to, but it hit him in the gut all the same. His friend rubbed his back and he bit his bottom lip in attempt to hide his inner urge to start crying. “Don’t pay attention to him, Tom! You’ve been through enough to know you shouldn’t have to.”

She was right. Minho hadn’t been any sort of nice to Thomas in their entire history together. Which was unfortunately the majority of the time here. It was odd, because when Thomas thought about it, Minho wasn’t even that bad of a guy. He was just so snappy and Tom just seemed to find himself in the way every time the jock had to make a brute remark. Still, his stomach was always uneasy around the guy. He wasn’t sure why.

“I know, Brenda.” He was thankful that her hazel eyes were so warm, welcoming him like no one else could. She was the best friend, perhaps the only one, that he had in the past two years, though she only enrolled at WCKD High their sophomore year. The only other person he could consider himself anywhere close to was...

“Chuck!” Brenda exclaimed in that bright voice of hers, gliding over to him as he made his way towards them. His face went red but he greeted her nonetheless. Thomas laughed a bit because he knew his roommate was a sucker for the ladies, especially Brenda. She was no doubt one of the prettiest girls in the school. When Tom thought about it, he couldn’t really compare anyone else to her. Maybe that Sonya girl, but he never really cared that much.

Rolling his eyes at the comment Chuck whispered to him about Brenda’s swinging hips, Thomas prepared himself for the first day of junior year at WCKD High.


	3. First Day, pt1

After quick examination of their respective schedules, Brenda and Thomas felt the despair of the different classes that they’d be attending. Sure, they both had Pre-Calculus and Chemistry, but at completely different intervals of the day. They also shared Art and Writing Comp, but those were the two periods after lunch-which they fortunately had together as well. Thomas was clearly upset, Brenda saw it in the way his lips creased in and his face went tight. It cascaded down his body as well; his back straightened and his fists tensed. She hugged her tiny hands around his bony shoulders as they departed, and she waved to Chuck as he hurried to keep up with the upset boy.

There were three main wings of the school. They were broad hallways with enormous dome-windows on the ceiling to breathe in the sunlight and pour it like gold into the linoleum floored catastrophe. The catastrophe was the throng of people hanging about, walking-or perhaps even hurrying- this way and that, carrying an assortment of bags. Everyone wore the same colors, but they stretched the dress code: Instead of slacks, some boys wore skinny pants; some people didn’t tuck their shirts in, or rolled their sleeves up; some girls had layered skirts while others wore leather tight to their skin. And the shoes. Brenda guessed that the school had at least one pair of every type of shoe out there, and she loved it.

The vibrant society of students clamored before her in the wing so titled Black Hallway. Even though they hadn't all left for the summer, they all seemed to be reconnecting as if they did. Something about the schedule of a school day starting up again must have spurred on the new social enigma. Brenda, however, had no one to spark up conversation with.

She sighed, but it didn’t bother her entirely. She had a few other friends, like Gally or Sonya. Well, not really Sonya at all. She seemed to drift further and further from her this past summer. Brenda ended up walking behind her, but she didn’t want to be a bother so she didn’t move to her side or call her name. The girl’s hair fell in straight flames down her back, and Brenda watched as it just barely touched the satisfyingly round buttox beneath tight black shorts. 

Sonya slowed when she met with her better friend, Harriet, and in her quiet voice she greeted her and they wrapped their arms around each other for a quick hug. Brenda’s stomach twisted, but she swallowed and looked away as she passed them, hoping they wouldn’t be going to the same class. Harriet’s earrings jingled like little bells as she laughed in such a transparent tone, “Someone’s in a hurry.”

Brenda pretended not to notice, a feat in which she had prided herself on. She, like Thomas, had received the butt-end of the stick when it came to a social life. Not too many people were fond of her, and she believed it was because either her new status, being late and disallowed from joining the fun, or her probably disappointing personality. A flash of this thought made her regret even seeing Sonya, as a minor fantasy of something dark coursed through her. Seeing the red-headed beauty reminded her of why she thought people hated her. She was a short, unathletic girl with awkward bones and a little extra weight around her waist. She blamed herself for half of it, as well, finding it hard to socialize sometimes and struggling with the idea of being put in an environment where everything was her own decision. Her friends back home were no more; this was her life and would be. 

A soft nudge in her arm told her someone was trying to get her attention, so she looked up to find the sullen face of the skinny-boy Gally. He smiled, and even though his lips seemed grossly thin, she had to admit he had a winning grin. She also wasn’t sure if he put on a thin line of eyeliner on or if his eyes were just that dark. It always amused her to think about him, rushing around in his dorm as he had woken up late almost every day for the past three years, painting tiny lines on his eyelids in the mirror. 

“What’s up, buttercup?” He walked with her into the room and to adjacent seats. 

“Don’t you have Ben to talk to?” she laughed a little bit, but his face didn’t read well. He shook his head and said, “Nah, not even Fry. Just you and me, yo.”

It comforted her that he seemed to enjoy her company. Maybe it was nothing more than that, she was the last link on a chain. Maybe it only seemed that way.

The classroom filled with students and they all settled with a certain chatter that was so chaotic it irked Brenda. She wriggled in her seat, waiting for the teacher to begin class. Gally wasn’t really paying attention to anything at all, and Brenda hid her face inconspicuously as the head of flames and her partner stride in. They had legs like pillars, fleshy and smooth, and they seemed to shine up the room as they walked across it, just as the sun seems to whirl around the earth.

The teacher pronounced his name and right before he could continue, the door was occupied by a new figure, and so were all the eyes in the room. It was a girl. She was even taller than Sonya and Harriet, but her thighs were a thick glow of white skin, like her slender arms and neck. Her face came to a petite chin, above which a carnation-red set of full lips protruded beautifully. Her eyes were a shocking metallic blue, reflecting the light like no other set had before her, like the excessively thick hair on her head was a cosmic map of stars. 

Brenda couldn’t help but notice the hair cascade down her shoulders, where it continued to fall onto her voluminous chest. The girl didn’t sport a tie as was required, but instead had unbuttoned her blouse so that her white skin, all the way down to the inbetween of her magnificently shaped breasts, gleamed in the morning sun. Brenda heard the girl say in an airy voice, “I’m Teresa...Teresa Agnes.”

She looked up again and her eyes met with the beaming, steel lights. Teresa smirked, her cheeks creasing as her lips stretched, and Brenda whipped her own head away. Teresa made her way across the room as well, but a strange and nocturnal sort of glow emanated from her, and with a cool breeze on her skin Brenda was splashed with an extremely pleasant and aromatic scent that filled her lungs whether she wanted it to or not.

Gally nudged her and winked, “You’re drooling.”

Brenda’s hand was quick to come down on Gally’s head, and she just sat facing the front again as a few eyes turned to the scene. Gally was rubbing his head and she smirked like it wasn’t her who had hit him. He certainly deserved it, because Harriet had laughed that annoying laugh. Brenda noticed Sonya, leaning onto the wall from her desk, watching her. Sonya looked back at the front of the room when their eyes met, but Sonya didn’t look too pleased. Something about the way she held her hand in front of her mouth told Brenda that she was angry.

Class was absolute torture. Brenda felt stuck between Teresa to her left, who she did see look at her a few times, and Sonya to her right, her lips pursed with a taut and freckled face. In addition to that, she had to deal with Gally chiding her about her taste in women and the razor blade gaze of of Sonya’s partner-in-crime Harriet. All of it seemed to resonate itself into her body where it bounced around at the pace of her hurried heart. 

As soon as she could, she rushed out of the classroom before anybody else, even leaving Gally behind in the small crowd of standing students. She glanced at the new girl, who’s mouth parted just enough that meant she wanted to say something. But she hesitated, and Brenda was going too fast to even want to respond. She didn’t go to her next class, gym, but instead to the girl’s restroom, where she made her way into a stall and sat on the closed toilet. Head in her hands, she felt the quivering of her chin as she was about to cry. Just as she gasped, she heard the door open. There was a painful silence, but the person just sighed and left. She guessed she should get to her next class as well.

Late was dear Brenda to Gym, though not late enough to warrant her an absence. She rushed into the locker room, which was bursting with girl’s conversation, echoing a weird way in the metal boxes adorning the walls. As she pulled out her own clothes, she heard a conversation in low voices, “...Brenda? Yeah, no, that freak? You don’t wanna deal with that. What a mess.”

That was Harriet. Brenda’s heart sank as she saw the black waterfall of hair be pulled up in a ponytail around the corner. They were right there, talking about her, oblivious to the fact that she was that close. She heard the harsh voice of Sonya, “Hey, don’t say that.”

“What? You’re okay with her staring at your ass all the time?” she retorted, but Teresa’s soft voice asked, “Wait, what?”

“Okay so Sonya, whatever she was thinking, invited her to a party last year cuz that cute senior Clint wanted to get it in, but she refused him and basically ruined the whole night,” Harriet explained, and she heard Sonya scoff. Yeah, Brenda thrust her legs through the tight athletic pant holes, that’s not how it happened. Everybody was pressuring her to fuck the guy. That was the last thing on her mind, and they ended up yelling at her for whacking the guy one after his tongue found its way down her throat. She slipped her feetskins on- thin slip-on shoes that tightened to help with agility and prevented injury. The WPSS Administration had bought them in bulk for the students last year after their invention.

“Really,” Teresa sounded pensive. Brenda shook her head, putting her own tangle of waves up into a ponytail. She couldn’t believe Harriet was already sucking the new girl into a winding spool of a history of bullying. She noticed the locker room was clearing out, and she didn’t want to be late to roll call. She slammed her locker shut, and right as she turned away she saw Teresa lean out behind the corner. “Uh-oh,” she sighed in that airy voice of hers.


	4. First Day, pt2

Thomas wanted to shrug away the voice of the kid behind him. It and the very manner of Chuck reminded him of a bee, a very annoying bee. He didn’t really know when to shut his mouth, and he always hovered around Thomas. No one else. Yeah, Thomas knew the kid since day one because they had been roomed together, but no, he never had the intent to get this close to him. As horrible as it might be, he sometimes wished that Chuck would find better friends-ones who actually treated him normally- and leave him be.

But the likelihood of that not happening, as well as anything else that might be good for a change, hit him square in the chest when he turned the corner-Chuck right by his side. From his left appeared the large figure of a boy with a sturdy stance and broad shoulders. He could feel himself shrink as he noticed who it was and he quickened his step in just the slightest, hoping he wouldn’t be noticed. But his effort was wasted:

“Hey, buddy!” Minho chimed as they exited the school and made way to the gymnasium, and Thomas could see his dangerous smile beam down at him. He imagined living under Minho’s god-structured face to be the equivalent of sticking pencils in his eyes. 

“Hi,” Thomas choked, unable to really comprehend the things he wanted to say-which in that moment were practically nonexistent- but Chuck saved the day, by waving at someone in front of them, “Newt!” Minho excitedly slapped Thomas; back and went over to his friend. Both of them wearing their letterman jackets, bright red with cream sleeves and black collars, a logo of a runner on the back. The WCKD Runners, that was the school mascot. Both of them were three season athletes.

Chuck shook his head as he watched Thomas, who was himself watching Minho. Thomas’ gaze seemed glued to the point between Minho’s shoulder blades, and images of his own hands gliding over the muscled skin popped through his mind and he had to pull himself out of a fantasy to look down at his friend. Who he was now more thankful for than seconds beforehand.

“Thanks, man,” he whispered as his eyes now lingered on a spot much lower on Minho’s back, hearing the swooshing of grass beneath all of the students’ feet around him.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. I thought you were gonna puke-” Chuck started giggling but Thomas’ fist connected with his upper arm. Chuck rubbed it in silence as they all entered the locker room to change.

Thomas didn’t really say anything, but then again, when did he ever really talk to Chuck? Barely. Chuck would anticipate and produce conversation like it was nothing, but Thomas really didn’t have much to say to the kid. When he thought about it, he only talked to Brenda, and even Chuck realized they had something he and Tom never would. Thomas would lie awake in bed before sleeping sometimes, regretting being so silent. He was just so bored with everything, and guys like Minho and Newt didn’t help anything.

The disastrous duo were talking really loudly, as they always did, about something Thomas really didn’t have the patience to listen to. Though they were laughing heartily it sounded like nothing to him. Suddenly, Chuck seemed to remember something, as it was clear on his face, and he mumbled something about being back in a bit. The inevitable thing that Thomas hated but always seemed to want came to him: loneliness.

He trudged out of the locker room, and wasn’t surprised when Newt squeezed by him without a word and Minho rested his large hands on Thomas’s shoulders to gently push him out of the way. The two kids were enormous and their new set of clothes, shorts and tanks, were as good at hiding their muscles as an ostrich was at hiding its head. He grimaced when Newt made a sort of wistful eye contact with him, and just looked ahead. Of course, today, they would start Volleyball. The coach explained the basic rules, which Thomas didn’t need to listen to. He couldn’t even if he did because Minho and Newt were the same, chattering on. A voice said his name and he whipped around. Knowing Chuck hadn’t returned, confusion washed through him.

A tall blond kid was there, smiling like it pained him to do so. He waved his arms back and forth and clasped his fists together when they met. He was clearly bored and probably didn’t have any friends in this class, so Tom wondered why he was approaching him. “Ben?” he asked. Ben shrugged and said, “Partners? For volleyball?”

Tom liked the idea, looking around to make sure Chuck wasn’t there to ruin the moment, so he smiled and nodded. It was certainly pleasant to have someone asking him to be their partner. It seemed like everyone hated Tom those days, and it really hurt him to think about. Ben definitely wasn’t as talkative as Thomas’ roommate, but he was pretty social. He asked what Tom had been up to the past summer, to which the response was, “Nothing, I kind of just went back home and chilled with my friends there.”

Chuck came back in, and when he saw Ben and Tom talking, he hurried over. “Hey guys, what’s up?” He always seemed to be in the best mood and sometimes that just killed Tom. Ben saw the way Tom looked blatantly away, then said, “Nothing, we just decided we wanna be a volleyball team.”

“Ugh, okay. I’ll see you on the court then,” Chuck’s whole frame fell, and in a defeated stupor he stumbled off to find someone else. When he was gone, Ben asked, “Why do you hang out with that kid?”

“What? Why?” Thomas gulped, knowing someone would’ve asked him sooner or later. This could be his chance, he thought, to make a new friend, to finally feel what he would feel back home. 

“He’s just...so weird,” Ben frowned as they started stretching along with the rest of the enormous class. Thomas nodded in agreement and said, “Yeah but he’s my roommate. I don’t know, it’s weird.”

“So what? I’m roomed with that asshole, but I’m not friends with him,” Ben coughed and Thomas could see by the way he loosened himself that Ben was athletic. His voice was of a pleasingly low tone, and his eyes were a harsh lavender blue. Thomas grimaced at the thought of having the the brown eyes that he did.

But Thomas turned his head to see who Ben was talking about, and followed hiss gaze right to the jock in a black tank. Minho. He rolled his eyes and said, “How do you put up with him?”

“I don’t. He tried arguing with me two years ago, but we ended up punching each other out.” Thomas had an easy time imagining Minho and the other guy letting their testosterone get the better of them in a simple fist fight. But that didn’t seem to bode well for the blond.

“Well?” Tom asked.

“I won. And that was that”

Thomas laughed as they assembled across the courts lined up and split by high, mesh nets. When Minho and Newt took position across from Thomas and Ben, Thomas just shot his partner a look of pure anger and disappointment, to which he chuckled and pointed at them. They were already prepared to serve, and Newt cheered Minho on- really?- as he pounded the ball with his fist.

Tom motioned upwards with his head and Ben seemed to understand. Thomas jumped on his toes to set the red and white ball, and Ben came in behind him with a jump high enough to slam the ball into the other seniors’ court. Thomas smiled brilliantly, feeling it in the far corners of his cheeks, and high fived Ben. He hadn’t smiled like that in forever, though Minho was frowning in malcontent. Newt wasn’t altogether too displeased by it.

A few more serves and Thomas and Ben were on fire. They understood each other’s little movement quickly and easily, handing them an advantage over Minho’s brute strength and Newt’s agility. Every time the ball thumped on the enemy court, Minho’s brows seemed to furrow closer and his mouth grew more taut. It wasn’t like Thomas and Ben had it easy, as Minho and Newt would strike the ball so rapidly and harshly that Thomas or Ben were forced to run this way and that, struggling to keep their balance.

Suddenly, when Ben said, “Keep it going, Tom!” in a quick way, focused on the ball, he looked over at his partner. Thomas was confused for a split second, as their exchange had been nonverbal up until that point. It was only huffs of breath and the squeaking of sneakers on the gym floor. Though his heart fluttered in the phrase that he took as a compliment, he felt an immense pain on the side of his face as a large plink temporarily deafened him.

The momentum of the hit sent skinny Tom backwards, and losing his balance he fell on his rear and one hand. Pain immediately seared up his spine and wrist, and he gasped in the terrible feeling as his vision swirled back to a normal position. Hands were in front of him: he noticed Ben asking if he was alright and extending a hand to assist him to get up.

To his surprise, another set of hands came into view. They didn’t hold themselves out like Ben’s did, but instead one rested on his shoulder and grasped it, another gently touching his injured arm. He glanced up and saw Minho’s face, flushed with a dark hue of red and glistening in sweat. “You alright, buddy?” he asked, and Thomas just looked down at his hand, which he was holding limply in the air. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good...” he murmured, unable to continue looking at Minho’s liquid brown eyes. He was already pissed at himself for looking so unable in front of the guy.

“Are you sure?” Ben asked harshly, over the whispers of a few people gathering around. Great. What a way to start the school year. Class embarrassment.

Tom decided to get up, but realized right away that leaning on his hand was a bad idea. He groaned when he felt a second shooting of extreme discomfort traveled up his arm. Minho said, “Alright, let’s get you up.”

Ben was taken aback, and Thomas’ heart skipped a beat as Minho’s large hands squeezed his ribs and the hurt arm’s elbow. Though he had power beneath the skin of his arms, Thomas could feel the complete influence the jock had over them and how easily he could put them to light work; gently lifting Tom to his feet. 

Rubbing the spot on his arm where Minho had grabbed, he whispered a thanks as he glanced over at Minho. The guy was grimacing, clenching his fists and unclenching them repeatedly, and biting his bottom lip. Thomas waved at the gym teacher who pointed to the nurse’s office, and Tom left class. He felt more than one pair of eyes on him, but the only person he could think about was the one who had helped him up. Ow.


	5. First Day, pt3

Minho felt as if his throat was closing up as the boy stalked out the door, holding his wrist in a vulnerable and weak way. The small crowd fritted away as Minho, Newt, and Ben returned to their respective courts. Ben’s face twisted in a weird sort of displeasure, and he directed it at the jock. Minho swallowed hard and avoided eye contact. As Ben continued to beat him and Newt, alone, he felt the tension rise in his chest and he thought he was going to be sick.

Finally gym class came to an end, and Minho hurried in and out of the locker room. As he harshly grabbed his back and strapped it on, Newt sighed deeply and let him go. On his way out, he met with Ben, but still refusing to look him in the eye, he made a point to give Ben a little bit of a push with his shoulder as they passed. “Watch it, weirdo.”

Ben frowned, and asked, “What’s his problem?” to a pensive Newt. Slipping a shirt on, he shook his head and said quietly, “Beats me.”

Minho jarred his hands into the door, barging into the nurse’s room, which was located in the foyer before the gym. There was a desk to greet him, and behind it were several empty beds. “Where is he?” was all he could get out, huffing out breathes uneasily from the hurry over. The woman, peaking the age where beauty became wisdom, looked up and tacitly responded, “He went to his next class.” His shoulders fell, and he made his exit just as he had made his entrance. Rough and quick. 

He was late to his next class, Carpentry, in the tech building, so he avoided the look of all his classmates-especially Ben- as he made his way to the locker room. The lockers here were slightly smaller than the gym ones, but he threw his bag in it anyways. He thrust his feet into boots, clipped on his belt, and upon coming out he noticed that everyone else was working. He paused for a moment to grimace at the sight, and he knew that the working world didn’t revolve around him. The teacher pointed to the desk, signaling that he was marked as late. Minho whipped around to get to work on his current project. 

As a sort of preparation for the final, they were told to design their own object, fitting certain parameters like height, width, and weight. Minho had begun a small desk, and when he reached his station, he felt his stomach lurch when he compared his product to that of Ben’s. Ben was held the highest grade in the class, and his desk was already close to being complete. He was sanding it with rough hands, and when he looked over at Minho behind the plastic of foggy glasses, he shook his head. 

-

Thomas felt dull. Not empty, like he had in previous years at this school, but heavy and invisible. He imagined that a dense ball of lead had settled in his abdomen, and he shuffled his way to second period. He found a seat in his new class, Physics, towards the less populated side of the room, and forgot that he couldn’t really use his sprained wrist, ripped it up and hissed in pain. 

“You okay?” he heard the soft voice behind him, and spinning to see who it was, startled, he found the smiling face in a halo of golden hair of Newt. The guy sat next to him, and Thomas mumbled, “Yeah.”

“What’s your schedule like?” he asked, trying at conversation. Thomas grimly pulled the slip of paper out and handed it to him, tapping his pencil impatiently. After a few seconds of studying it, Newt’s lips pressed together. He handed it back, and when Thomas murmured a thanks, he felt like he needed to apologize for the volleyball.

“Minho didn’t mean to do that-” he began, but Thomas interrupted him, putting up a hand solemnly. Feeling ornery, the words slid off his tongue, “Doesn’t that meathead not want you to talk to me?”

“What he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him, right? Besides, you’re my friend, not his, idiot,” Newt rolled his eyes. Thomas knew he didn’t appreciate the sass, and he felt sorry, but he was too embarrassed to say anything about it. The rest of the class was awkwardly tense between them, and he could tell newt was trying to ignore it when he participated in class and talked to those around him. Of course, he could do that; he was the charming, social guy who also happened to have fine curvature of his face and molten blue eyes. 

The bell rang and Thomas didn’t want to get up right away. He wasn’t sure if it was because he wanted to continue dodging the blond jock, or because he felt too weak to proceed to next class. Probably a mix of the two, he sighed as he finally pushed himself out of his seat. Newt was already a few feet away, almost out the door, and waved with a weak smile, “See you around.”

Thomas scoffed at the thought, but really wanted to curl up and just cringe. He felt so guilty for being so hostile, but at the same time, why shouldn’t he be? When Minho never failed to ruin his day? On the way to Calculus, he saw Brenda across the hall. She was looking at her feet as she walked, clutching the straps of her backpack and fiddling with the clips. He knew that the day probably wasn’t any better for her, so he thought about asking her later. He didn’t want to bother her, and to be honest, he didn't want to be bothered himself.

Upon entering his math class, he gulped when he saw the dynamic duo yet again. They were sitting on the other side of the room, with their backs to the door. Newt was on top of one desk, waiting for class to start, and he looked around and caught eyes with Thomas, who was a little disappointed that he didn’t say anything about having class together. Feeling an ounce of betrayal, he fell into the closest seat and buried his head in his arms for a few minutes.

“Rough day?” a new voice arose to his right. Who was it now? Why couldn’t the world just leave him be? He looked up, not noticing that his face was tight with aggravation. His eyes met with an electrically sky blue pair of eyes, shrouded by graceful waves of iridescent black hair. He loosened his entire body as he sat up and grumbled, “Yeah.” He coughed once to clear his throat and apologized, and she just smiled with lips of cerise on a face of white, “Same.”

“Thomas.”

“Teresa.”

They looked at each other for more than a few moments, and all he could do was study her face. It was frightening, to do such a thing as she was doing the exact same. Alarmed at his own heart beating, he gulped again and went to say something, but she popped her lips and smirked, leaning closer and putting a hand to her mouth. “Between you and me, that guy can’t take his eyes off of you.” She nodded her head behind her, and when Thomas’ eyes glided by her, he saw the face of his agitator. The eyebrows were furrowed, but his face flushed when their eyes met and the brows turned down in irritation. 

Thomas lifted up the splint the nurse had wrapped around his wrist and said, “Well, he did sort of hurt me.”

Shocked, she said, “Hurt him back,” and her lips turned up in a sort of eerie smile. He could tell her mind was wrapping itself around on itself again by the way her eyes seemed to glide over everything. Her thoughts seemed to be connected so fluidly to the rest of her body, like she knew all that was going on around her and she could respond to it in an instant. Just by the way she pulled her binder out and bit her pencil. He shook his head, averting his eyes from her bare thighs.

“I’m new here, by the way,” she shrugged as she pushed back her luscious hair and Thomas saw Newt gawking. A smirk twitched on his face as he returned his gaze to her and said, “Oh yeah? You’ll probably do just fine?”

Her pencil seemed to be stuck to her bottom lip as she said, “You think?” Heat flashed through Thomas but he controlled himself and cocked his head, “Yeah,” nodding slowly. His eyes found themselves on the jocks. Newt signed a whoop at Thomas as if he had scored a goal-and though Thomas knew exactly what he meant he didn’t want to think about it- and Minho was taut against his desk, fists clenching. ‘This is gonna be fun’, he thought to himself.


	6. First Day, pt4

He was a blob, or only part of one. He was only one cell of an oozing, infected amoeba. The people around him were all so cheery but he couldn’t help but feel the exact opposite. Their smiles and bright eyes were on a wavelength that was so much higher above Thomas’ that he wanted to crumple into a pile of ashes. Remove himself from the amoeba. For the benefit of the amoeba.

The crowd poured into the cafeteria, which was a magnificent hall with streamers and banners hanging across the paramount ceiling and walls. The voices all echoed so much that Thomas felt like he was in a dream. He hadn’t been in here and he didn’t remember liking it. Somehow, it churned his stomach so much as to spurn his appetite spiraling down into the floor behind him. He found a table around the same area that he and Brenda sat together last year, pulled a chair out, and sat in it, pretending no one could see him. That made the dull sphere inside him shrink.

Brenda plopped herself in a chair next to him and sighed. He looked grimly at her and said, “How’d it go?” 

“Terrible,” he saw her chin quivering. He reached his arms out, and she couldn’t resist them. She cried silently in his arms, and he rubbed her back as he rested his own jaw on her soft head of hair. After a minute, she was done, pulling herself back up and wiping her eyes quickly. “I’m good. I’m fine.”

“Go get your lunch,” he smiled crookedly, and it was infectious for the woven friendship they had. She stood and he saw a bit of a bounce in her step, at least one that wasn’t there before. A chair next to him pulled out, and his new acquaintance from gym sat down. Thomas rolled his eyes, but was still smiling. He was there, though, so that meant something...right?

“So, you got your eyes on that chick-” he began with a wicked tone, but they both started when they heard the tender voice, “Which one, Brenda?”

Teresa stood there, lunch tray in hand, and she pointed it at the empty chair. Thomas shrugged, and after looking at a pale Ben, said, “Have a seat!” She did as her said and pursed her lips. Was it so that everyone but Thomas-and seemingly Brenda- was having a good day? “What about her?” Thomas leaned over the table and stared directly into the blue gemstones that were her eyes. 

“Uh, what?” She looked down at her food and suddenly that grace that she had before was gone. Slyly, he sat back as he noticed Brenda approaching. When Brenda saw the full, black head of hair, she stood stunned with food in hand. Ben looked back and forth, and then, perplexed, at Thomas. Brenda slowed her walk as she came up and sat down, forcing a smile as she looked at Teresa and said, “Hi.” Teresa did the same, but they barely looked at each other and both of their voices were barely above a whisper.

Brenda said, “Something about this year just feels so weird. I don’t know, I feel like a lot’s going to happen,” but Thomas noticed that she had shifted her body away from Teresa and was speaking directly to him. He could tell she meant Teresa’s advent, and was a little taken aback by her forthright rudeness. Teresa frowned at her food, and then she got up and said, “I forgot, one of my new friends said she wanted me to sit with her at lunch. I’ll see you guys later.”

The boys watched her go in silence, while Brenda continued eating her sandwich blandly. When the new girl was out of earshot, he said incredulously, “What happened??”

“She’s friends with Harriet and Sonya, already. They were shit talking me in the locker room earlier, and I was literally right there. They’re going to poison her...” She wasn’t looking him in the eye. He narrowed his and said, “What does it matter, just ignore them. Ignore her.”

“You know something tells me that’s coming right out of your ass, Tom. You of all people should know it’s not that easy,” she snapped, and then returned to her food. Thomas sat back in his chair. He knew she was right, and though it hurt, he cared more about how it actually was. He wished it were easier.

“Wow,” was all Ben could say, before taking a chomp out of his own sandwich. Thomas usually liked how most guys ate, huge bites and cheeks full of food, but right then, he was a little more preoccupied within his own thoughts and retrospection. In a flat tone, he said, “I guess you’re right, Brenda.”

She looked at his splint and said, “What happened?”

“Minho-” He glanced at Ben, deciding to reserve his more nasty words for a later time when he wasn’t there, before continuing, “Minho hit me with a volleyball and I kind of fell over.”

“So he broke-or whatever- your wrist? That jerk-” Brenda was already fuming, and he appreciated the empathy. The fire in her eyes was so much that he wondered just how much was said about her in the locker room and what, but he was quick to deflate her: “No, Brenda, it was more my fault. I lost my balance and just landed the wrong way.”

The bronze haired girl shook her head, and Thomas looked over at Ben to see his reaction. He didn’t seem phased, but Thomas didn't want to assume anything. They both knew Thomas blamed the absent guy. He looked around, searching for the gorgeous black haired girl, but he didn’t entirely like what he saw. She was sitting alone, staring at her food. She got up, threw it out, rubbed her eyes, and walked out patiently. 

He wasn’t pleased with Brenda, but through thick and thin he’d stick with her. Teresa must have done something to warrant such irritation in his best friend.

Suddenly, yet another newcomer came to the table. It was the sullen Gally, with a purple eye socket and bent nose. His mouth was bright red from blood that had been wiped recently off. Ben exclaimed, “Who now, Gal?”

Gally grinned, showing bloody teeth as well, and he said, “That kid-idiot Chuck.”

They all looked at Thomas, who was first angered by Gally’s words, but then embarrassed for the eyes on him. “What?” he spit out, and they all shrunk away. Gally still kept his gaze on Thomas, who just murmured, “What did he ever do to you?”

“He was being a punk as usual, tripped me in fuckin, Shakespearean lit,” he laughed, bringing his water bottle to his head to cool it. Thomas had to admit that Chuck was always one to pull pranks at the most inappropriate times. It occurred to him that maybe that was what Chuck did to escape the ridicule. Most people did laugh at his pranks but he still got shit for being himself otherwise. Maybe he went through with all those jokes to laugh it off. 

“Gave you a good one, did he?” Thomas smiled, and they all laughed. He’d have to chastise Chuck for that later.


End file.
